


Worth Fighting For

by andlightplay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andlightplay/pseuds/andlightplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam vows to get better.</p><p>(Concieved before 7.17 aired and consequently Jossed as hell, but I loved the idea too much to let that stop me posting it)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth Fighting For

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before 7.17 aired, hence the Jossing, but then I kind of forgot about it/had nowhere to post it. But I still like the idea, so I'm posting it now.

“Good morning Mr Wesson,” the doctor says, giving Sam a brief smile as he sits down opposite him. “I’m Doctor Willis. How are you feeling now?”

Sam returns his smile and shrugs, spreading his gauze-wrapped hands. If Dean was here he’d be making cracks about Michael Jackson. “’M good.”

“Do you mind if I call you Sam?” Dr Willis asks, sounding genuinely courteous, and Sam shrugs again, hearing Dean in his head: _Damn shrinks, playing nice to get you on side. Like he really gives a fuck._ Either way, it’ll be easier to talk to him if the guy’s calling him his actual name rather than ‘Mr Wesson’, which was apparently all Dean could come up with when he was getting admitted. Sam Winchester, of course, was a raging psycho mass-murderer who was killed months ago. 

“Good, okay. Now Sam, do you remember why we had to wrap your hands?”

“Because I was hurting myself,” Sam recites dutifully, wondering if they’ll take the bandages off faster if he pretends he won’t do it again. The scab on the heel of hand itches under the layers of gauze, and the one in the crook of his elbow is still tender from earlier, but not tender enough. He’ll just have to get in deeper, really hit the nerves, snap himself out of this. If they really wanted him to stop, they’d have immobilized him like Hannibal friggin’ Lecter, complete with mask; but they haven’t.

“And can you tell me why you were doing that?”

Sam sighs. “Because I’m trying to stop the hallucinations. Pain’s the only thing that can anchor me to the real world.”

Dr Willis leans forward, pulling a concerned face. If this was a movie, he’d be played by George Clooney, and probably win all the Oscars. “Alright. Do you think you’re hallucinating now?”

Sam can’t stop his eyes flicking up to the other two figures standing behind the guy’s chair. “Yes.”

“Do you think I’m real?”

Sam shrugs again. “Yeah, probably. And even if you’re not, you’re just a...passive part of the hallucination, you’re not trying to hurt me, so.” He spreads his hands again. _Don’t worry Doc, I’m not gonna try and hurt_ you.

“Okay,” Dr Willis says calmly. “What are you seeing that convinces you that this, and I, could be hallucinations?”

Sam considers lying, remembering Dean getting admitted to the other mental hospital for telling the truth about the Apocalypse, but there isn’t much point. Here, they already know he’s seeing crap that shouldn’t be there, so the only thing he’d be lying about would be who it is he’s seeing. And honestly, in this kind of place, he probably isn’t even the first one to have said it. “The devil. I got him on one shoulder, and an angel on the other.”

Dr Willis nods and makes a note on his clipboard.

“Ah, but the problem is, Sammy: which one is which?” Lucifer says smugly. Frost crawls up the wall behind him, painting out the outline of two huge wings. Next to him, Cas is standing as still as ever, dripping black and covered in the dark welts of a vessel splitting at the seams. “After all, I’ve always been honest about my intentions towards you; all I’ve ever wanted was your body.” He leers, and Sam ignores him, focusing on Cas instead. “I never lied to you, never infiltrated your little family and then ripped it all apart from the inside.”

Cas only blinks, silent as always and just watching Sam with the open, clear gaze of someone who honestly, truly believes that Sam’s gonna beat this and come back stronger for it. He looks smaller without his coat, diminished and vulnerable, and the gaping tears in his suit don’t help, red raw skin showing through. He never speaks, but the bright faith in his eyes never wavers.

It always hits Sam hard, because that’s the exact same way Dean would be looking at him if he was here.

“Sam?” Dr Willis is prompting, and Sam snaps back to him. “How long have you been seeing them?”

“A while,” Sam says, running a hand up through his hair. “Lucifer since like, maybe September? Cas is uh, more recent. A month maybe, max.”

“’Cas?’”

“The angel. He, uh.” Sam glances over at him. “He’s a friend who died recently.” Cas looks away.

Dr Willis raises his eyebrows. “I see. Do they interact with you in any way?”

Sam huffs a humourless laugh. “Uh, yeah. Well, Lucifer does. Cas not so much.”

“And what does Lucifer do?”

“Jeez, this is getting really tedious,” Lucifer says, rolling his eyes. He pushes himself off the wall and slams a hand into the doctor’s throat, pinning him to the wall behind him and watching the way he struggles, eyes wide and disbelieving.

 _It’s not real_ , Sam tells himself frantically, watching Dr Willis wheeze for air, face flushed red and mouth working like a fish out of water. _It’s not real. If you get up and help him you’ll just end up in a straitjacket. It’s not real._

“No?” Lucifer queries, eyebrows raised, and shrugs, shifts his grip to Dr Willis’s hair and slams his head back against the wall, again and again and again. “Okay Sam, you win. This isn’t real. None of it is. What _is_ real is that right now you’re on the floor of your latest filthy motel room and your idiot brother is so busy trying to stop you smashing that precious little head of yours open that he hasn’t noticed the leviathans outside the door.” He cups a hand theatrically to his ear, and Sam hears something fading in and out like a badly tuned radio, furious and wretched and desperate.

“Sam! Sam, you bastard, don’t you fucking do this! I know you can hear me; it’s not real! Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not- look, just follow my voice or whatever, I’m right here, you just gotta wake up. Please, Sammy, c’mon!”

Somewhere underneath there’s something else, like an echo, calling his name, but Sam ignores it. Dean, Dean needs him, Dean’s about to get caught, Sam has to warn him, needs to get back to him...and there’s only one way to break free of this fake hospital, destroy what isn’t real, and with his hands bound he’s really only got one choice.

Cas catches his arm as he lifts it to his mouth, eyes boring into Sam’s and shaking his head. He hesitates, then grabs Sam by the shoulders, fingers digging in, eyes locked on Sam’s, blocking out Lucifer and Dr Willis’s body and the sterile white of the hospital until there’s just him. Water and black ooze are dripping down his face, blood trailing down his jaw, but none of it lands on Sam, disappearing into thin air as it falls, and Dean’s voice is fading out. Sam fights him but Cas is immovable, and then Dean’s gone and Sam stills because what’s the fucking point. Cas loosens his hold and steps back, watching Sam steadily, and then Sam blinks and he’s gone.

“Sam,” Dr Willis says from only about a foot away, and Sam jumps, then finds he can’t move because there are strong arms holding his own arms still, immobilizing him. “Sam, can you hear me?”

He nods. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Dr Willis scrutinizes him carefully, then steps back. “Good, that’s good. Sam, you had a strong hallucinatory episode and we had to restrain you for your own good. Can I ask what you saw?

Sam swallows. “Uh, Lucifer was...messing with me.”

Dr Willis nods. “Does he do that often?”

Sam nods. Behind Dr Willis, Lucifer presses a palm to his chest, pulling a _Who, me?_ face, then smirks and blows Sam a kiss. Sam turns his head and finds Cas standing next to Dr Willis; he meets his eyes quietly, still looking at Sam like he thinks Sam can win, like Sam can do anything. Trust Cas to have picked up Dean’s belief in him along with everything else. 

Sam squares his shoulders as much as he can in the orderly’s hold. It doesn’t matter that Cas is a vision, a phantom, a projection of some saner part of his consciousness, because whatever he is, he’s helping. He reminds Sam that he has something to live for, someone to get back to once he beats this. 

Time he started working on that.


End file.
